Amalgamation
by Annenburg
Summary: As a half-Vulcan, Spock never expects to imprint. It's rare enough for a full-blooded Vulcan to imprint, so why should he have it easy? But he does imprint – on the delinquent who sabotaged his Kobayashi Maru. A reimagining of the movie: Big Bang style.
1. Chapter 1

_The author in no way owns the Star Trek franchise or in any way has claim to the characters and entities that are part of it. All original plots, storylines, and characters contained within this work are, however, property of the author, Naelle Annenburg. Use of any of these is acceptable only if the author releases permission._

"**Amalgamation" Chapter 1**

* * *

Spock is postulating upon the possibility of interdimensional communication when a knock comes on his door. He pulls back from his work and walks to open the door, finding himself face to face with the chief simulations officer on the complex. "May I help you?"

The man – shorter, pudgier, utterly human – nods, brushing lint which does not exist off his sleeve. "There's been a request for another run of the Kobayashi Maru simulation," he informs him. Spock raises an eyebrow minutely higher.

"The Kobayashi Maru simulation is free for all students of the academy," he says simply, slowly, hoping that this man follows the explanation. "It is a normal occurrence for them to request an attempt on it. You are not required to seek my authorization on it. In fact, authorization to run it is your responsibility."

The man rubs at his neck. "I know that, but," he pauses for a moment, during which Spock thinks back to his previous postulations. Should there be a possibility of interdimensional communication, he will ask how those of other dimensions deal with incompetent simulations officers. Eventually. "But Sir, this will be the third attempt by this specific student to overcome the Kobayashi Maru. Is that—allowed?"

Three attempts?

Spock contemplates it for a moment. "It is permissible," he says firmly. "However, I would like to observe the simulation. What is the student's name?"

The man taps the screen of his PADD twice, and then responds. "Kirk, James T. Third year. Test results off the charts, but he has quite the record, disciplinarily speaking. Attempted the Kobayashi Maru for the first time seven months ago to the day. Second attempt was four months and seventeen days ago. Filed request for a third attempt this morning."

Spock takes the PADD from him, looking over the data provided. "Is he a relative of Captain George Kirk?"

The man nods. "His son. Born two minutes before the Captain's death."

The Vulcan scans through the test results again. Impressive, he had to admit. This was not an unintelligent man, but for him to attempt the Kobayashi Maru more than once indicated otherwise. It was illogical. "Was it not Captain George Kirk's stated belief that he did not believe in the no-win scenario?"

A chuckle escapes the simulations officer. "Yep. Guess he passed it on to his son, right?"

"It is illogical," Spock says smoothly. All mirth escapes the officer's face. "The willingness to believe that it would be possible to achieve victory in any scenario is a mental fallacy. It is something, in fact, that I would believe to indicate both immaturity and unintelligence."

The officer's lip thins. "We can run the simulation in one week."

"I would like to be present for the purposes of observation," Spock reiterates. "Schedule it for 0900 hours one week from today. I will meet you in the observation deck at 0830."

The man nods, shoots him a look Spock cannot fully translate, and leaves his quarters without another word.

* * *

True to form, Nyota Uhura is in his office ten minutes after his scheduled office hours begin. He beckons her to sit down, clearing his screen. She lowers herself with more care than is necessary, straightening out the pleats of her skirt and straightening her back, breasts catching on the material of her shirt. Were this any other student Spock might suspect an attempt at seduction, but she has proven herself many times over to be more concerned with the mental than the physical. Thus he ignores the inadvertent sexuality inherent in the action.

"Is there something I can do for you?" he asks formally. In most cases, that is precisely what it is – a formality. But today she carries a bag, something she rarely does. She nods. "My knowledge in xenolinguistics is not as extensive as yours, but if I am capable of lending assistance I shall."

The girl reaches into the bag, eyes remaining on Spock's face. He sees some attraction in her expression, but she knows where the line must be drawn, and more importantly she knows the importance of keeping her resources uncompromised. She hands him a book – one with which he is quite familiar. Vulcan poetry. He drops his gaze to it and back.

"I'm using it as practice in translating Vulcan into English," she explains. "But there was a word in one poem that I can't find anywhere. I thought it might be a name, since the line references a person, but it doesn't sound like a traditional name."

Spock opens the book, marveling at the unlikelihood of her having obtained a bound volume of Vulcan poetry on Earth, and finds the page she has marked. It takes no great effort to find the word which had confounded her. "You refer to 'T'hy'la', then?"

"Yes," she answers. "I can't find a translation."

Spock closes the book, handing it back to her. "That would be logical, given there is no translation," he informs her. He recognizes the confusion in her eyes. "I suppose there is a definition, though. 'T'hy'la' refers to a person with whom a Vulcan may share a great bond. In common terms, his friend, brother, and lover in one. It is the greatest bond a Vulcan may share excepting marriage. I do not believe there are parallels in any language."

The cadet cocks her head, mouthing the word to herself. "I can't translate it?"

Spock shakes his head. "I do not believe you will ever have cause to," he informs her. "It is a private term not used outside the relationship except in poetic verse such as that. You will not encounter it in communication."

She frowns, but nods, slipping the book back into her bag. "Thank you," she says needlessly, and he nods in acceptance of the expression of gratitude. "I'm just so frustrated lately, and that was the icing on the cake. Did you know I have to go into the Kobayashi Maru simulation _again_?"

Spock nods. "I was aware. It is Cadet Kirk's third attempt and he always requests you. You are permitted to refuse."

She crosses her long legs in front of her. "I know, but I find my experiences in the simulator to be more than worth the trouble he causes," she says. "It reminds me that I must be willing to stake my life for the greater good of the galaxy, and it reinforces the difficulty I must overcome. Compared with the advances of that hick, it is important."

"Quite," Spock agrees. "Did you have any further questions?"

She purses her lips. "I have no one to take me out to dinner when I graduate," she informs him. "It is an important social ritual in Earth culture to share a meal after a great achievement. Will you share that meal with me?"

Spock is not the sort to indulge humans, but he finds himself nodding. "Yes, Nyota. I believe that would be most appropriate. You are, after all, my most advanced student."

She smiles at him and pats his knee standing up – a gesture which can hardly be misconstrued as merely friendly. In an instant, Spock is aware of her intense emotional connection to him, of the bond she wishes to form, and he pulls back further into his mind, shields up. She is not his intended. She may never be. It would be most convenient if she were, but it is not in his control.

He cannot imprint via sheer will.

"Then I will see you some other time," Uhura says as her farewell, a noticeable difference in her stride that Spock is relatively certain is referred to as a 'bounce in one's step'. He should not have indulged her, but now he is committed.

It will be so much easier for him once he imprints.

But a part of him is certain it will not happen. He is, after all, only half Vulcan. Experiencing an imprint – that instant knowledge that you had found your intended bondmate, the instant connection, the bond formed on that first sight – that is the most revered aspect of Vulcan physiology. And it is exclusively Vulcan. His human blood may prevent the possibility of an imprint.

In fact, the likelihood of him imprinting is so abysmal that the logical thing would be for him to force it from his mind.

Some part of him will not allow it.

"Illogical," he mouths, and he returns to what work he can complete before any other students approach him.

* * *

Spock arrives at the simulator promptly at 0830. He observes the platform, the simulator screens, the replicated bridge. It does not take long for the simulator staff to approach, as well as a member of the council. Spock meets his eye.

"I couldn't resist seeing the guy willing to go through the Kobayashi Maru three times," the man says by way of explanation. Spock nods to confirm his understanding. "Same for you, huh?"

"The Kobayashi Maru simulation was not created for the purpose of multiple attempts," Spock replies. "It is designed to fulfill its purpose on its first run. For a cadet to attempt it more than once seems indicative of mental deficiency and a lack of maturity. I wish to see firsthand the reactions this particular cadet has to repeated failure to determine whether this is the case."

The man chuckles. "In other words, you don't get why he's so stubborn?"

"There are more efficient ways of phrasing that," he says firmly, watching the staff prepare the simulator. "Is Cadet Kirk present yet?"

A simulations officer checks his PADD. "Negative. But he isn't due for another ten minutes."

Spock returns his attention to the replicated bridge. How will this man handle himself in the simulation? It is not the first time Spock has observed a run of the Kobayashi Maru. The reactions are split quite evenly down the middle, each repeated by the next group. The 'captain' either reacts logically, working to keep the ship up as long as possible, or emotionally, devoting the ship's entire energy to the rescue without regard to safety.

Inevitably, both reactions will fail. And just as inevitably, both reactions lead to intense fear.

"Wow," the council member breathes. Spock glances at him; he is staring enraptured at his PADD. "This Kirk guy drove a car off a cliff when he was nine. Guess he doesn't scare easy."

Spock scoffs inwardly. "Nevertheless, the Kobayashi Maru will scare him."

The council member raises an eyebrow. "I would not be so sure this time, Mr. Spock. This guy doesn't follow patterns."

Speaking of, the door to the simulator opens, and Spock glances down to get his first glance of the man in question. Uhura comes through first, followed by two men who start towards the edge, and then a blond.

All thought processes stop, and the world ceases to exist to Spock. Every fragment of his existence is drawn instantly to this man, all physicality meaningless as his mind reaches without his consent towards this other man's. His consciousness is dependent on him now, as dependent as his body is on his mind. He knows him.

Tremendous fear, warmth, panic, joy, irritation, grief, and love emerge suddenly in the forefront of his mind, and—

And they are bonded. Spock comes back to himself with a mental jolt, physically frozen as this man – James Tiberius Kirk, Jim Kirk, _Jim_ - pitches minutely forward and clutches his head.

"Ah, fuck," he hears him say. Uhura raises an eyebrow in his direction. "Shit, my head…where the fuck did that come from?"

"_You_ are the one who asked for this," Uhura admonishes. "Don't think you can get out of it just by saying you got a little headache."

_No_.

Spock knows what has just happened, and it repulses every fiber of his being. It is illogical, inappropriate, unacceptable – it cannot be. It is impossible. And yet it is also undeniable that it has occurred.

He has just _imprinted_.

"What part of your head?" one of the men now in the simulator asks gruffly. Kirk waves him off.

"It's better now," he says easily. "Just one of those things, I guess. Weird as hell, but no biggie. Don't we have a simulation to run?"

This cannot be happening. Spock turns his back, intensity running through his veins. He is male. He is not meant to imprint on another male. This great honor, this revered occurrence – and it has gone so terribly wrong. This is unacceptable.

He pays no attention to the simulation, attempting to calm himself. He can feel their bond – and he denies it. Shields himself from it. It takes such concentration that he only realizes the simulation has met an unexpected turn when the lights flicker. He watches as the simulation ends – a complete success.

The man next to him asks him a question, something about the simulation. About it being beaten.

It is all Spock can do to respond with, "I do not know."


	2. Chapter 2

_The author in no way owns the Star Trek franchise or in any way has claim to the characters and entities that are part of it. All original plots, storylines, and characters contained within this work are, however, property of the author, Naelle Annenburg. Use of any of these is acceptable only if the author releases permission._

_This chapter contains significant canon material quoted verbatim from the script of the 2009 movie._

"**Amalgamation", Chapter 2**

Spock spends almost the entire night reading up on Vulcan imprinting. He finds no references to same-sex imprints. He finds no written history of rejected imprints. He finds nothing of any use. It is maddening.

Instead of sleeping, he calms himself with meditation. It is all he can do to maintain the shields he has placed around his consciousness and not allow the imbalance it has caused to deprive him of his logic.

And yet he can't stop thinking of Kirk. The cocky grin and big hands. He's barely seen the man, and his mind is filled with bits and pieces he'd witnessed. He smiled with teeth. His shoulders were wide – wide enough to stretch out the material of his uniform minutely.

_No biggie_.

Spock shivers. He forces the memory of the voice out of his mind, tying it as best he can to a feeling of repulsion. There is no logic in this – no biological benefit. It is a bond that will not further the bloodline.

Perhaps it is proof he is not as much a Vulcan as he thought.

The meditation fails to calm him sufficiently, but the trial will provide him the chance to use his logic enough that he may be calmed anyhow. He dresses, prepares his arguments, and makes his way to the hall.

Goddamn it, Kirk is there when he arrives. It takes all he has to avoid looking at his face. To avoid looking at any part of him. He takes his position and waits for the proceedings to begin.

He forces Kirk's voice to mute in his ears. He does not desire any further distractions. Should this go well, he will never need see this man again.

Vaguely, he understands that he is being called to explain the charges. It also means he shall have to face his imprint. But he steps down regardless, taking his new position and folding his arms behind his back. He faces his imprint, trying not to show any hesitation.

His eyes are blue. Spock is prompted to speak, and he takes a deep breath, speaking everything he's told himself to say in that single exhalation. "Cadet Kirk, you somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine in the programming code, thereby changing the conditions of the test."

Spock can feel the man's defiance through the bond, even though he does not want to. "Your point being?"

"In the academic vernacular," the board member clarifies, "you cheated."

Spock staunchly avoids looking at his imprint. But the man is looking back to him. He hopes it is brief. "Let me ask you something I think we all know the answer to," Kirk says clearly. Spock listens. "The test itself is a cheat, isn't it? I mean, you programmed it to be unwinnable."

It is illogical to consider it a 'cheat' by any means, Spock thinks to himself, careful not to allow it through the bond. All he says is, "your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario."

Those eyes. Spock's body tightens, his heart rate elevating slightly and physiological indicators moving towards tension. "I don't believe in no-win scenarios."

The force with which the emotions behind the statement crash through Spock's consciousness nearly brings him off balance, but he regains himself. Refusing the urge to hesitate, he replies coolly. "Then not only did you violate the rules, you also failed to understand the principle lesson."

The man's emotions are coming clearly now, one after another, overwhelmingly. _Distaste_. "Please, enlighten me."

Spock was prepared for this contingency, but not the emotions it would elicit. He breathes to calm himself. "You of all people should know, Cadet Kirk; a captain cannot cheat death."

_Anger. Outrage. Humiliation. Grief_. And even still, _defiance_.

"I of all people."

"Your father," Spock spits out as a wave of _outrage_ flows through the bond. God, how Spock hates this man. He cannot believe it possible that he's imprinted upon him. "Lieutenant George Kirk assumed command of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?"

_Fury._

"I don't think you like the fact that I beat your test."

And now Spock cannot look away. It no longer matters that he has imprinted upon this shameless human male or that the integrity of his exam has been compromised. He tells himself to hate this man, and it is easy. It is so easy. His chest boils – metaphorically – and he speaks rapidly. "Furthermore, you have failed to divine the purpose of the test."

_Disrespect_.

"Enlighten me again," the man dares. Spock maintains his gaze.

"The purpose is to experience fear," he informs him. All emotions cease for a moment. Good. "Fear in the face of certain death. To accept that fear and maintain control of one's self and one's crew. This is a quality expected in every Starfleet captain."

Nothing at all, and then –

_Resignation_. And _pride_.

And without even a word or a thought breaking through the bond, Spock knows somehow that Kirk does understand. That he was able to make it through the simulation the first two times without issue because _he does_ accept the fear of death. That perhaps he does not even fear it—

His interpretation is cut off as a messenger enters. A moment later, he cannot control his shields any longer as the words pass Admiral Barnett's lips.

"We've received a distress call from Vulcan."

And then the imprinting, the trial, the man so intimately joined with him do not matter. He rushes to the hangar.

* * *

Nyota Uhura reprimands him vehemently before he can get a word in edgewise. She wants to be on board the Enterprise. He sees the logic in bringing her aboard – her skill, her determination, and her experience – and yet he also knows how problematic having her aboard will be. He is aware now of her attraction to him, and he is in no great rush to start a relationship with her. She is young, she is his student, and more than that—

He forces himself not to admit to himself that he has imprinted.

Perhaps having her aboard will not be so troublesome after all. She is young and attractive. She may prove a suitable distraction.

"I am assigned to the Enterprise," she states flatly. He can see some appeal in her. He reaches for his pad and rearranges the roster.

"Yes, I believe you are."

* * *

He focuses on his work on the bridge, mind calm, empty. He is no longer anywhere near James Kirk. And he has a duty. He has a duty to his planet.

He has not been home in years.

Spock does not allow himself to indulge in the memories of his childhood or the possibility of seeing his family again. They are going to Vulcan for a specific purpose; there is no room for sentimentality. There will be neither time nor reason to approach his parents. He is going solely for the purpose of the mission: provide aid to Vulcan.

Never before has he been so content to have joined Starfleet. Not even the academy could help Vulcan here.

"You all right there, Mr. Spock?" the captain asks quietly. Spock nods in the affirmative, running a cursory check over his station. "I know you haven't been to Vulcan in a long time. It _is_ okay to be uncomfortable."

Spock turns to face Captain Pike. "While I appreciate the sentiment, Captain, I am not at all in physical or mental distress at the moment," he corrects him. "I intend to perform my duties to the best of my abilities."

Pike smiles, that smile that makes his eyes turn at the corners. His eyes are blue.

_Kirk smiles with teeth. Kirk grins_.

"I hear you are trying Cadet James Kirk for cheating," Pike says conversationally. Spock forces down the irrational thought that Pike somehow knew what he was thinking a moment ago. "He's hard headed, but he's a good kid. A good recruit."

Spock flicks a few buttons on his panel. "I was not aware one could be both immoral and 'good'," he observes. Pike smiles again. "Additionally, he does not apply logic to his decisions."

"His morality is unique," Pike says. Spock glances up. The man seems nearly proud, if a little irritated. "I think his disbelief in the no-win scenario is admirable. If you think in terms of the 'no-win scenario' being illogical in his morality or mind, then it is only natural to think he'd try to change the conditions of your little game."

Spock ponders it for a moment. "I do not believe it logical in any reasonable sense."

Pike pats his chair and turns around, walking back to his own. "Just try to think about it from his perspective before you finish trying him."

Illogical, Spock thinks. He watches his station carefully, monitoring for even the slightest changes. There is little to do in warp. Pike is pacing now, apparently not content to sit. The restlessness is familiar, Spock must admit. He recognizes it from Kirk.

_Panic. Determination_.

Spock straightens his back. The emotions coming through the bond are as clear as they were in the hall. Is it the strength of an imprint bond? Or could Kirk somehow be aboard? He dismisses the thought. The man is thankfully on academic suspension. He cannot be on the ship. Even if he weren't, Spock would have assigned him another ship – possible the Truman or the Farragut.

But the emotions are so strong.

He stands, a wave of franticness thrust through his system. Why would Kirk be so panicked?

He could ask him himself, he realizes. Because there he is, impossibly, at the opening of the bridge, flanked by a panicking doctor and his own Nyota Uhura. She backs away from him as he starts shouting, everything coming out of his mouth ridiculous.

"Based on what _facts_?" Spock demands after he's heard the man's declaration enough that he knows he's not letting go. _Confidence_ and _calm_ meet his senses.

And to his great shock, the logic is flawless. Had Spock been given this information, he too would have come to Kirk's conclusion.

He does not wish to admit this, even to himself.

Spock knows instinctively what they will encounter once they drop out of warp, and he feels that Kirk knows it just as well. There is silence aside from Sulu's countdown, and then, destruction.


	3. Chapter 3

_The author in no way owns the Star Trek franchise or in any way has claim to the characters and entities that are part of it. All original plots, storylines, and characters contained within this work are, however, property of the author, Naelle Annenburg. Use of any of these is acceptable only if the author releases permission._

_This chapter contains significant canon material quoted verbatim from the script of the 2009 movie._

_Warning: graphic sexual content, references to intersex genitalia (hermaphrodism)._

"**Amalgamation", Chapter 3**

Gone.

Vulcan is completely _gone_.

It is near impossible for Spock to remain as calm as he needs be. This is only made harder when Nyota follows him into the turbolift, dead set on comforting him. Her thin arms around his neck and shoulders, her hand in his hair, her lips on his face—

It is not Kirk.

He allows her to embrace him, to whisper comforts, apologies, gentle words into his ear. There is some sexuality to her now, inappropriate and disgusting. But she is young. She cannot control that. Her cool body presses against his and he lets it. Lets her cup his face and look into his eyes, lets her act as though he is the only one who matters.

"Tell me what you need," she whispers. "Tell me."

_James Kirk_.

He tries to forget his imprint. She is here now. She should be right for him.

"I need everyone…" he manages, looking into her eyes. She is beautiful. She is here for him. She loves him. "…to continue performing admirably."

He kisses her back when she leans up into him. Soft. Gentle. Humans love so deeply.

His mother was every bit as human as Nyota. As _Jim._

His control breaks. He parts from her, exiting the turbolift as quickly as he can. It is no longer in his power to change his course – his body is intent on one direction, one target, and he is helpless to change it. He walks the halls without a second thought, not walking towards his chambers or the workout room.

He walks until he comes to find James Kirk, leaning against a wall and looking for all the world that he's just seen Hell.

_Disgust. Disappointment_. He looks up at Spock.

_Pity_.

Spock breaks.

It would not have mattered if the hall was filled with people, though thankfully it is devoid of anyone other than the pair. Spock cannot control his body – and he does not want to. He strides to his imprint and before the _confusion_ he feels in his mind can result in action or words, he grips the other man's arms, presses him to the wall, and kisses him.

It is intoxicating, soothing, addictive. Spock forces his tongue into the man's mouth when he opens it, choking off any protest. The arms in his hands struggle, the man's body writhing against the wall, creating some strong friction against his chest, and Spock merely takes the opportunity to explore every crevice in the man's mouth.

He cannot control himself. A surge of _lust_ makes its way through the bond, and before he is aware of it, he has not only let go of Kirk's arms, but he's managed to pull his shirt out of his slacks, running his hand up and over his chest.

They need this.

Kirk does not understand the sudden physicality. Confusion, outrage, and desire flood into Spock, but he can do nothing to soothe it but project back his need. Gradually, the outrage ebbs, and with that Spock pushes as much lust into the bond as he can. The need for release, closeness, and heat. Kirk returns the kiss.

Spock forces him back against the wall, drawing the man's slacks down around his knees. And even as he continues to plunder his imprint's mouth, he reaches down to explore the genitalia of his intended.

It differs so greatly from his own.

Spock almost can't help but look. The flushed penis – pink, red, something in-between – is substantially larger than Spock's. Beneath it are what he knows to be the man's testicles – Spock's reside within his body. He reaches behind them—

There is nothing.

For once in his life, Spock does not know how to proceed.

Kirk helps, though, an image flooding through the bond of Spock on his knees, mouth on his genitals. The Vulcan cannot imagine how intercourse between them would be possible. How could it? He follows the lead Kirk has sent him, sinking to his knees and eyeing the alien appendage. He does not understand why the man thinks taking it into his mouth would be pleasurable.

"If you're gonna start it," Kirk pants, and Spock looks up at him, "you gotta finish it. Suck that cock."

Spock glares returns his attention to the penis – the 'cock' – and takes it in hand, pulling it from base to end a few times. A hand comes to the back of his head, and he understands what is requested of him.

He opens his mouth and lets the man's 'cock' push inside.

All that keeps Spock going is the constant stream of images through the bond – the unconsciously given instructions, words he does not understand, visions of him bobbing and demands for suction and how to best use his tongue – but it seems sufficient. It seems to take very little time before the man before him is reduced to gasps, both hands clutching at Spock's head, hips canting into his mouth. Spock feels the pleasure almost as his own, and when Kirk lets out a long moan, a sticky substance flowing into the Vulcan's mouth, it is almost overwhelming, his vision going white.

He feels the shared climax fully.

The substance in his mouth is not unpleasant, so he swallows it. It should have no detrimental effects, he thinks. Kirk's mind is blank, waves of satisfaction flowing from him through the bond, and it is all Spock can do to rearrange his appearance and make as hasty an exit as possible.

* * *

Kirk only questions inwardly Spock's motivations on the bridge – through his aggravation and insistence on fighting Spock's instructions. The Vulcan can hardly take it any longer; he is too drawn to this man, too invested in him. He will give in to an illogical course of action if he can't get away from his imprint.

He incapacitates him and orders him off the ship. It is the only logical course of action. As much as it physically aches, he watches the pod enter the atmosphere of Delta Vega. He tells himself that this is the right decision. This is moral. This is logical.

This _hurts_.

The ship enters warp drive, and there is little to do. Spock will need sleep. His body protests the hours of stress amidst grief and the lack of his imprint. Assigning command of the conn to an ensign (one who looks competent enough), he leaves the bridge, allowing the turbolift to take him to his quarters. Before entering, he reminds himself that he is not the only one using them.

Sure enough, his father is there.

"Father," he greets solemnly, making his way into the room. He will need a shower. His father returns the greeting silently, seated firmly at Spock's desk. "Excuse me."

The sonic shower pulses, vibrates – and as the day's grime is washed from his body, he reaches down to examine his own genitalia. Like Kirk, he does have a phallus – a 'cock', the man had called it – but he is lacking testicles. They rest within his body, he understands. The color is different, but he can attribute that to the differences in coloration of their blood. Only hesitating for a moment, he reaches down to search behind what he can see.

Kirk did not have this.

His fingers find loose skin and an opening into his body. Spock has always pondered why this part of him existed. It is unnecessary. He knows the basics of his species' sexuality – of how intercourse is performed and the process by which offspring are produced – and yet he has never _seen_ another Vulcan bare.

He has seen humans bare. He has studied human anatomy. But his genitals do not resemble those of either human sex.

Is there something different about him?

Once the shower finishes, he dresses absently. He has always believed himself to have the physicality of a Vulcan male. He can find no secondary sexual characteristics displayed by the females of his race. His hips are narrow and his chest is flat. His shoulders are broad. He has no doubt that his physiology is that of a male.

But he needs to confirm it.

He steps out of the bathroom, eyes settling on his father again. He ponders how to start the conversation, and then crosses his arms behind his back.

"It occurs to me with the destruction of Vulcan that if our kind is to survive, we will each need to put forth the necessary effort," Spock says stiffly. His father gives no indication of having heard him. "Colonization. Repopulation."

His father nods. "Indeed. However, there are other priorities. You know this."

The younger man forces calmness into his body, even as it sings with tension. "There is something I do not know," he states flatly. "I am of two species. Will I even be capable of reproduction?"

His father is still for a long moment. "We had you engineered to be capable, yes."

Spock takes a deep breath. "And yet my body differs from both species from which I was derived?"

His father nods. "The chromosomal count between humans and Vulcans differs," he says slowly. "As a result, we could not engineer you to be fully male. However, your mother was…adamant that we have a son. I conceded and you were created as you are."

"How _am_ I, Father?" Spock asks, but he already knows. He has known since before this conversation started. His father stands and faces his son.

"You are intersex, Spock," he informs him. Spock stays as still as he can. "But as I said, you are reproductively capable. As either sex."

At last, an answer.

"I see," he says as a way of ending the conversation. He makes his way to his bed. "I need to rest before the start of the next shift."

His father nods and leaves the room, perhaps hesitating a short time at the door. But soon enough Spock is alone, sliding under the covers and trying to rest.

But it does not come as easily as he had hoped it would. The revelation plays in his mind. He is of two sexes. Hermaphroditic.

It is no wonder he was able to imprint on a male.

This does not make him any less a man, does it? Spock turns onto his side, a hand traveling over his flat chest as if in confirmation. No, his mind is certainly a man's mind. He has melded with enough women to know he is different from them. So why did he imprint on a male? Are his reproductive capabilities as a female superior?

He closes his eyes and awaits sleep he knows will not come.

* * *

Spock makes his way to the bridge, joined by Nyota. She is tense at his side, meaningful glances making their way at his face, and he tries to ignore her.

Illogically, his body is burning for release. He knows she cannot provide him this.

_Terror_ flashes through the bond, faint from distance and yet clear enough in his mind that he feels it with every fiber of his being. For a moment, his mind flashes to the well-being of his imprint. But he ignores it, focusing on his duties as acting captain. Focuses on the frail body of the girl beside him and not her obvious intentions. It works to dissipate both the fear and the arousal.

He makes it to the bridge before another emotion pushes through the bond – one just as strong as the terror. _Confusion_.

"How long until we reach the rest of the fleet?" he asks of Sulu, who spouts off numbers that make enough sense not to question. The emotions are flying into his head now, wave after wave.

_Disbelief._

_Irritation._

_Confusion._

_Hope._

And then, out of nowhere, the most intense emotion he's ever felt – one he felt just hours earlier for the first time.

_Devastation_.

And yet this feeling does not seem to fit in with Kirk's patterns. He can't imagine what would _devastate_ his imprint. It is gone within seconds, but traces of it remain, making their way through Spock's body. It is a physical reaction. He cannot control it any more than he can control the blood in his veins. And for all his years practicing meditation, mental blocks, and isolation in one's self, he cannot keep his imprint's emotions out of him.

There is a blissfully long period in which there is nothing particularly strong, during which he remains on the bridge. Nyota shoots him longing glances as though she thinks the rest of the crew will not notice.

She is stronger than she acts. This version of her – weak, lovesick – irritates him.

_Amusement_ seeps through the bond some time later, and Spock wonders what could be so amusing on Delta Vega. He does not concentrate on it for very long, though, switching his focus to his work.


	4. Chapter 4

_The author in no way owns the Star Trek franchise or in any way has claim to the characters and entities that are part of it. All original plots, storylines, and characters contained within this work are, however, property of the author, Naelle Annenburg. Use of any of these is acceptable only if the author releases permission._

_This chapter contains significant canon material quoted verbatim from the script of the 2009 movie._

"**Amalgamation", Chapter 4**

He is compromised.

Spock does not know how Kirk managed to return to the ship, and to be honest he no longer cares. He is emotionally compromised, has given the man command – and yet he is somehow more relieved than he could have imagined. Kirk is with him again. All should be right in the world.

But it simply can't be. He can't be.

He finds himself at the transport pad. His mother did not make it here. This is where he lost her.

Could she have approved of his imprint, even when he does not? What advice would she have given him, even unasked? What confidences would she have held?

"Speak your mind, Spock."

He will never know.

"That would be unwise," he replies, not looking at his father. His eyes stay on the pad. She must've been terrified. Having felt human terror now, he understands it. He knows he cannot change what happened, but he still wonders. He should have held her.

"What is necessary is never unwise."

He still cannot face the man who sired him. "I am as conflicted as I once was as a child," he says, looking for a moment longer at the pad.

"You will always be a child of two worlds," he hears his father say, his voice deep and calm. Always calm. "I am grateful for this. And for you."

And now, Spock cannot help but turn to his father. The man stands straight, looking him straight in the eye. "I feel anger for the one who took Mother's life," he says lowly, gathering his thoughts as a wave of _nervousness_ flows through his bond with Kirk. "An anger I cannot control."

His father approaches. "I believe…that she would say, 'do not try to'," he informs him, standing face to face at last. There is a strange look in his eyes. "You asked me once why I married your mother. I married her because I loved her."

_Shock_ permeates his mind, and it takes him a moment to realize it did not come from the bond – it is his own. Genuine, powerful shock. He breathes deeply, knowing now is the only chance he may ever have to know.

"Did you imprint on her?"

The older Vulcan is still for a long moment, silent – and he nods. "It was unprecedented," he says gently. "No Vulcan had ever imprinted upon one of another species. To this day, I remain the only one. Though it took some time for the council to believe what had occurred, the bond was accepted and I was permitted to marry her. Your birth and development have proven the capacity of our species mixed, and should another bond be made between a human and a Vulcan, there should be no complications."

Spock closes his eyes, letting Kirk's idle thoughts and feelings fill him. This should not be right. This should not be at all.

"I have imprinted," he manages, a wave of relief leaving him with the words. It is done. He has admitted it. He opens his eyes again. His father is unreadable. "I have imprinted on a human. A human male."

There is a long moment of silence, and then his father nods. "Thus you asked me about your reproductive capabilities," he says quietly. "Have you mated with him?"

Spock shakes his head. "He is not yet aware of the bond," he replies, trying to be every bit as confident as he should be. His father cocks his head at the slightest angle, and Spock breathes again. "I have yet to find an opportunity to inform him of what has happened."

His father nods. "The opportunity will come," he states, his eyes traveling to the transport pad. For a moment, he is completely silent. His expression is as blank as Spock has ever seen it, and yet something has changed. His shoulders, perhaps, or the tension around his eyes. His father somehow looks aged, exhausted – for a moment, he even looks _human_.

"If I may, I would like to have this room to myself," he murmured, eyes still fixed on the pad. Spock stares. "I wish to say goodbye to your mother."

Spock feels his breath catch in his throat. A week ago, either of them would have pointed out the irrationality of such a statement, of such an action. Now Spock understands – as does his father, evidently. He nods, bowing out of the room as quietly as he can, vowing to himself to do the same later. For now, he moves to the turbolift, keying in the bridge.

* * *

There is no time to discuss anything with Jim before they prepare to beam onto Nero's ship. Nyota moves to kiss him, and he allows it, aware that everyone is staring. He can feel her adoration, and he cannot let it continue.

"I am sorry," he murmurs against her lips, so softly that he knows only her trained ears will pick it up. She does not pull back. "I have someone else, Nyota."

He feels the revelation hit her, the disappointment and fear, and then she pulls back out of the kiss. For all the discomfort and aggravation she has caused him, she is still a friend. She recognizes it herself, and he leans into her again, desperate for some sort of comfort again. "I will be back, Nyota."

She is calm, determined. Comforting. "You'd better be," she says quietly, her brown eyes meeting his. There is a shimmer there, but she seems able to control herself. "I will be monitoring your frequency."

He and Jim are well matched; Spock is nearly surprised with how well their mission is proceeding. They do not speak much, and honestly Spock cannot think of much to say. Considering they are likely about to die, he supposes this might be for the best. What little conversation they have is stilted and about altogether the wrong things.

He hopes there will be time to truly talk later.

* * *

Their trip home will be long. Spock calculates it will take approximately three weeks at full impulse to reach the nearest base to restock their dilithium reserves, and once warp is reestablished the rest of their voyage should be completed within three more days. It is dangerous, particularly with the ship so damaged and undersupplied, but there is nothing to be done.

Nyota seeks him out two days into the voyage, entering his quarters without so much as a request. He raises an eyebrow at her boldness, but permits her to enter, gesturing for her to take a seat on the bed as he finishes his third debriefing for the admiralty. She is patient, but not stupid; he knows he cannot keep her waiting for too long, and as soon as he's managed to sign his name, he turns to face her, straightening his shoulders.

"Nyota," he greets her evenly. He has not spoken to her since before he beamed upon the Narada, and he knows she has been seeking him out since. "I suppose I do owe you some explanation."

"Yeah," she says firmly. Her hands clench in her lap, legs crossed at the ankles. She is angry, he recognizes, and she has every right to be. "How long have you been seeing this other person?"

Spock breathes once to maintain his control. "I have not been 'seeing' anyone, Nyota," he explains, watching her blink with confusion. "It is something of greater significance than a developing romantic interlude."

Her eyes widen, and he waits for her reaction. "You imprinted," she whispers, and now it is Spock's turn to be surprised. Imprinting is not discussed with outsiders – it is on the level of Pon Farr, kept secret from even visiting physicians to Vulcan. She swallows noisily. "Oh. Of course you did. When?"

She is handling this remarkably well, all things considered. Spock clears his throat. "A few days before we left earth," he says vaguely. She is and remains, for all her naivety, his best student, and she is brilliant. With even the smallest amount of information, he knows she could likely determine the identity of his imprint. Until he has had the opportunity to speak with Jim, he cannot permit this. "You are familiar with imprinting?"

Nyota's face reddens tellingly. "I researched Vulcan courtship rituals a little after I became your student," she explains. "I had thought we might become something more than just student and teacher. I know it was stupid, but I thought there was some chemistry between us."

A telling chime informs Spock that a message has arrived for him on his PADD; he ignores it, instead leaning forward to look Nyota in the eye.

"You are an attractive woman," he admits, and her eyes flick to her lap and back. He knows to choose his words carefully with her – there is much awkwardness already between them, and he does not wish to lose her companionship. "You are quite intelligent, and beyond all that you understand the subtleties of cultural differences and language. I paid you more attention than many of my students due to these things. It was perfectly reasonable to extrapolate, given the input you had received, that I would seek and pursue a romantic involvement with you."

"But erroneous," she says. Her eyes shine for a moment with unshed tears, but a moment later, she blinks them away. Her lips twitch once – a motion between a smile and a frown, and he raises an eyebrow. "Does Kirk know that you two are soul mates yet?"

Spock feels his shoulders tense as he processes her words. "Nyota—"

She laughs lightly, airily, and he sees for a moment how he could have loved her. She swipes a hand across her eyes, and he realizes she might not be as adjusted to her position in his life as he thought. "Trust me, Spock. It is not obvious," she manages, giving him a small smile. "Not to anyone else, at least. But I know Kirk's the only one it could be. He can make you emotional – something I do _not_ think anyone else could do. He riles you up and calms you down, and you've only known him for a matter of days. I can't imagine anyone else it _could_ be."

The half Vulcan shifts in his seat. "Your deduction is correct," he confirms, looking her in the eye. "However, I have not had the opportunity to speak with him about this. I trust everything pertaining to this discussion will not leave this room, Nyota."

"Of course," she agrees. She's quiet, but only for a moment. "You know, of all the people you could've imprinted on, Kirk would be the last one I would expect."

Spock nods. "I find myself thinking the same thing," he confesses. "I certainly would not have chosen him of my own will."

She uncrosses her ankles and smoothes her skirt. "Maybe it is for the best," she says, standing and looking down at him. Spock feels oddly like a child for a moment, but disregards it. "You make something of him, Commander. You might be the only one who can."

Spock raises an eyebrow at her humor. "I will endeavor to do precisely that, though I doubt that his personality permits anything of the sort," he agrees. He stays seated, returning his attention to his PADD once more. "Thank you for the conversation, Nyota."

"Anytime," she says. Then he hears the door swish open, then closed. He does not need to look up to know that he is alone once more, and perhaps it is for the best.

He opens the message that had reached his PADD during their discussion. It is a request from Starfleet for an explanation of his actions in jettisoning an escape pod onto Delta Vega. A pang strikes him behind his sternum, and he realizes it is precisely where a human's heart would be.

He is wrong. He should not be alone.

Gathering his courage, he stands, shuts off his PADD, and breathes deeply. "Computer. Locate crewman Kirk."


	5. Chapter 5

_The author in no way owns the Star Trek franchise or in any way has claim to the characters and entities that are part of it. All original plots, storylines, and characters contained within this work are, however, property of the author, Naelle Annenburg. Use of any of these is acceptable only if the author releases permission._

_This chapter contains significant canon material quoted verbatim from the script of the 2009 movie._

_Warning: graphic sexual content, references to intersex genitalia (hermaphrodism)._

"**Amalgamation", Chapter 5**

He arrives at sickbay some ten minutes later, altogether unsurprised to find Jim seated at Captain Pike's side. Spock is momentarily distracted by Pike's appearance; he has not seen his captain so bedraggled and pale before, and the contrast to the man's normal vigor is disconcerting, to say the least. Pike seems not to have noticed, an easy smile on his face as Jim talks to him. In spite of the ambient cold of the medical wing, Spock feels a wave of warmth pass over him.

Fascinating.

The older man does not even need to look up from his conversation to realize Spock is here, waving him over with an easy flick of the wrist. "Don't just stand there," he orders, tone amused. Jim twists at the waist to see who he's talking to, eyes widening when he sees Spock.

"Oh, hey," he says quickly. He begins to rise from his chair, gathering his things at one sleeve. "No worries, I was just clearing out myself. He's all yours, Commander."

Hearing his title and not his name escape his mate's mouth is disturbingly painful, and he shakes his head. "You misinterpret," he replies, remaining where he is. "My intent in coming here was to have a talk with you, Jim."

Jim freezes, half risen from his seat. "You wanted to have a talk with me?" he asks, eyes wide. Spock nods. The human seems to consider this, even as Pike sends Spock an inquiring look. "Uh, not that I don't want to talk to you, but what do we really have left to talk about?"

"There is much to discuss," Spock says firmly, if a little vaguely. Jim cocks his head in a manner than cannot possibly be comfortable. "Captain, I apologize for interrupting your visit, but—"

"—you wouldn't do it unless it was really important," Pike finishes for him. Spock nods. "Well, I know you well enough to know that, at least. He's all yours. I think conference room two is still undamaged; you can talk there."

"I appreciate it," Spock says, inclining his head. Jim still appears torn, but he settles for following Pike's not so subtle order, reaching for his bag and approaching Spock. "I will visit you later."

He turns on his heel, Jim following him to the lift. No words are spoken between them until the lift doors open and Spock steps out onto the officers' residential floor. Jim blinks.

"I might not have been on this ship for all that long, but I can be pretty sure this isn't where conference room two is," he deadpans, and Spock breathes. Patience will be necessary in dealing with Jim. "Are you going to _talk_ to me or do you plan to blow me out an airlock?"

Spock leads him towards his own quarters. "All airlocks are located four decks below us," he explains needlessly, approaching his door. "This discussion requires more privacy than the conference rooms permit us. We will speak in my private quarters."

He does not look back to Jim. He does not need to. _Skepticism_ flashes through their bond, as well as a small amount of _suspicion_. "About what?"

Spock keys them into his quarters, ushering the human inside. He is unacceptably nervous; his control has not been as it should be for days now. He wishes he could attribute it to the loss of his planet and its people, but he knows that is not the cause. Once Jim is inside, Spock locks the door and gives the code to deny access to all but the chief medical officer. The tiniest hint of _alarm_ rolls off Jim, and Spock feels himself echo it slightly.

But this conversation must happen.

"Is this about what happened in the hallway a few days ago?" Jim asks, nervousness evident in his voice. Spock feels the tips of his ears fill with blood, even as he schools his face and looks at Jim. The other man is unreadable. "Because seriously, if you want to have sex with me, there are better ways than insisting we 'talk'. It is the oldest trick in the book and it is overplayed."

The Vulcan shakes his head. "While I do desire to engage in sexual relations with you again, that is not why I have brought you here," he says with some haste. "I believe we must discuss something of some urgency. I merely wished to ensure this conversation was not overheard."

Jim's face goes blank. "Something about Nero?" he asks with some trepidation. Spock shakes his head, and the relief is almost palpable. "Okay. What?"

And for all the considerations, for the time and thought and nerves, for all the contingencies he's prepared for, Spock finds himself at an utter loss for words. He has Jim in front of him, has his attention focused on him – and there are no words to be found. His voice is gone.

Almost without thinking, he retreats into his own mind, faces the shield he's erected between their thoughts, and pauses.

And then, almost viciously, he _rips it down_.

Jim nearly yelps as Spock's consciousness invades his own, their minds reaching for one another and entangling once more. There are so many emotions to sift through – _confusion, anger, disbelief, joy, rage, _and _relief_ pour into Spock through the bond, and he lets them. He relaxes his mind completely, allowing his own thoughts and emotions to flow into Jim's mind, watching as Jim's eyes widen to a circumference that cannot be healthy in humans.

"What the hell?" Jim manages, clutching his head with both hands. The human reels backwards, knees hitting the bed and buckling. He drops onto his backside, and then rolls onto his back. His eyes stay locked on Spock's, utter disbelief coursing through his entire being as he gasps.

"It will pass," Spock reassures him as he finds his voice again, though he has no idea whether it actually will. Jim groans, shoulders thrashing on the bed. The Vulcan wants to hold him down or even just _hold him_ while he suffers this, but he knows he cannot. Should not. Will not.

But it does pass, and it passes quickly. Jim's grunts and gasps quickly fade into harsh breaths as he pants in exhaustion. It sends a thrill through Spock, and he moves to sit beside his mate. Slowly, the man's breaths even out.

"That wasn't talking," he spits out, eyes still locked on Spock. Spock raises an eyebrow. "Fuck. What did you do to me?"

Spock clears his throat, glancing away for a moment as he gathers his words. It is strange how he cannot for the life of him say a thing. There is so much he needs to explain to Jim, and yet the words absolutely abandon him.

He feels quite human for a moment.

"It is an ancient piece of Vulcan heritage," he manages, and his choice of words all but disgusts him. He is more articulate than this. "Upon first meeting one's perfect mate, a bond will instantly form. It is beyond any form of control and unbreakable. And it is never incorrect."

Jim lifts himself up onto his elbows. "I don't follow."

An odd heat is growing in Spock's abdomen, and he attempts to ignore it. "You and I, Jim, are irrevocably linked together," he states as plainly as he can. "We are bondmates. A pair. In the simplest of terms, Jim, we are _one_. The closest Standard I can access would be 'soul mates'."

Jim seems to lose muscular control of his jaw for a moment, his already too-wide eyes growing just a fraction. Spock wonders why his own thoughts are so difficult to access, and he can only watch as his mate sits up straight, staring at his face.

"Bullshit," he whispers. And then he dives in to kiss him.

For a long moment, Spock is unable to react. The shock rushes through his body, pins and needles in his chest and tension building in his shoulders. But then, abruptly, instinct takes over and he's kissing Jim back, nearly crushing their lips together in his sudden desire for closeness. His hands travel to his mate's scalp, fingers digging in as he forces Jim's head to a better angle.

The human groans into Spock's mouth, hands moving to the hem of the Vulcan's science blues. They pull back from the kiss long enough for Jim to yank the shirts over Spock's head, and then they're devouring each other again. Spock is barely able to breathe as Jim's hands scrabble over his chest, fisting in the copious hair he finds there even as he pulls away from his mouth, biting over his jaw. Nearly at a loss, Spock reaches down and tugs Jim's hips against him, moaning as their pelvises meet at last.

Jim's mouth detours suddenly to Spock's ears, his tongue exploring the whorls and point even as he thrusts slowly against Spock. The Vulcan is torn between continuing this rhythm and removing more of their clothes, and he settles for reaching one hand between them to open Jim's fly.

The moment his hand comes in contact with Jim's decidedly erect genitals, their already hurried pace accelerates. He cannot possibly touch enough of Jim's skin, and the same seems true for his mate. Jim's hands rush over him in a flurry, touching everywhere at once. His mouth is biting and sucking on his neck, and Spock strokes him desperately.

He moves to shove Jim's pants down over his hips, and the dynamic in the room changes. It is as though the climate control system of the room has malfunctioned, cold shooting down Spock's spine as Jim stills. He blinks as the man's hands leave him, and suddenly he is being shoved back onto his bed, the other man all but leaping to his feet.

"What the _fuck_?" Jim shouts, hands shakily refastening his fly. The zipper makes a terrible screeching noise as it is drawn up, and Spock manages to look away from it to Jim's face. His mate's expression is terrible – shock, disgust, and anger. Spock sits up, alarmed.

"Jim—"

"No, god damn it! No!" the man bellows, backing away from the bed. His hands are at his temple again, and Spock immediately moves forward. If his mate is hurting so badly, then it is his responsibility to do what he can to heal him. But Jim shakes his head, holding one hand in front of him as if to ward Spock away. "I said no! Get out of my head!"

Spock forces himself to remain where he is. "I am afraid that is impossible," he explains, trying to keep his tone as even as he can. He is still desperately aroused; his phallus is engorged and between his legs, there is an uncomfortable dampness clouding his judgment. He swallows as he tries to collect himself. "Jim, there is a bond in place between us. I will be 'in your head' until one of us dies."

Jim recoils, shaking his head furiously. "Get rid of it," he demands, slinking along the wall towards the door. When Spock does not respond, another bolt of _rage_ drips from Jim. "I am not kidding around here, Spock. You do not want me, and I am _not_ going to be your 'soul mate'. Get rid of the bond and get the fuck out of my head!"

The Vulcan takes a shaky breath. "I am incapable of removing the bond," he rasps, watching Jim's face contort with rage. This is not how it should be, he thinks. Nothing is as it should be. "However, I will block the transference as much as possible."

The expression Jim's face takes tells him that his offer is not good enough, and it is echoed by the complete resentment that rolls off his mate. Jim heaves a heavy, angry sigh, looking to the door. "Fine. Let me go now, or I'm reporting you to the 'fleet for sexual assault."

Spock is tempted to remind Jim that he was the one who initiated the intimacy between them this time and that Spock stopped when he asked him to, but he refrains. He gives the command for the door to open, and without so much as a backward glance, Jim bolts from the room, his footsteps echoing in Spock's ears even after the door closes behind him.

The Vulcan is still for a moment, wondering irrationally if Jim will return. But he knows it is absurd to wonder and hope, and he forces himself to stand once more, locating his shirts and pulling them back on.

His eyes light on his meditation mat, and he sighs.

He has work to do.


	6. Chapter 6

_The author in no way owns the Star Trek franchise or in any way has claim to the characters and entities that are part of it. All original plots, storylines, and characters contained within this work are, however, property of the author, Naelle Annenburg. Use of any of these is acceptable only if the author releases permission._

"**Amalgamation", Chapter 6**

The Vulcan does not see Jim after he blocks the bond again, and he supposes it is for the best. They will need to consummate their bond someday, but he does not know whether a time will come when Jim will accept what has happened. Spock had hoped, vaguely, that Jim's violent rejection had been due to the suddenness of his proclamation, but he knows that it is not the case. Jim simply does not wish to be Spock's mate, and he will have to accept this.

Regardless of how much it hurts.

The third day after his disastrous confrontation with Jim, his father enters his room while he works on another damage report. He considers finishing it, but it seems rather unimportant in relation to the opportunity he has now.

He sets the PADD aside, pulls his chair out, and stands to face his father. The older Vulcan inclines his head expectantly, and Spock straightens his back.

"I have informed my imprint of our bond," he says, the words oddly difficult to articulate in spite of their simplicity. His father waits. "He did not react favorably."

His father is quiet. "That is not surprising," he states, clasping his hands behind his back. "Humans are familiar with the concept of 'love at first sight', but they are unaccustomed to any manifestations of it. He will require time."

Spock nods. "I am aware of this. However, his reaction to the news was particularly violent."

The older man moves to sit on the bed, and Spock is tempted to follow. He remembers conversing with his father in such a manner as a child, seated at his side and listening to his advice and criticism. But he remains where he is.

"You will need to trust my judgment. Your mate will require time before he accepts the bond between you," his father says firmly. Spock raises an eyebrow inquiringly, and his father's gaze does not waver. "I am aware that my advice may seem unfounded, Spock. However, I have experienced a similar situation, and what I discovered may be of use to you."

Spock cannot resist any longer, and he joins his father on the bed, sitting at his side. Instantly, he feels like a child again, and he finds he does not mind. Spock turns and looks at his father. "You have had a similar experience to mine?"

"Your mother," his father says simply, and Spock has to consciously control his breathing. The heaviness in the atmosphere has returned, his father looking prematurely aged once more. The older man's eyes fix on the wall before him. "Her reaction to my imprint was unexpected, at best. Perhaps worse than merely 'violent'."

The younger Vulcan clasps his hands in his lap. "She reacted poorly?" he asks. It seems impossible that his mother could ever have refused his father anything. He strains to recall a time he even witnessed his mother grow angry at his father, and he cannot remember a single occurrence. But his father nods, eyes remaining fixed to the wall.

"Her initial reaction to the news was to run away," his father explains. Spock fights the urge to blink as the confusion wells up in him. Perhaps not noticing or even considering Spock's reaction, his father continues. "She took a transport to Montreal. I never confirmed it, but I believe her reasoning was that especially given that it was winter, the climate would have been too cold for a Vulcan to pursue her there, even if he was aware of her location."

Spock inclines his head, examining his father's face for any trace of the emotion he senses in his voice. He finds nothing there. "Was she incorrect?"

His father's eyes flick to the ceiling for an instant before locking back onto the wall. "Not precisely," he concedes. "The temperature there was low, but nothing thermals could not insulate one against. I took the first transport I could to Montreal and found her again."

The half Vulcan nods. "Were you able to convince her then of the reality of the bond?"

"No," his father answers, and Spock does blink this time. The other man does not seem to notice. "She insisted that I leave her alone. I did not precisely have a choice."

Spock breathes deeply, trying to imagine this. His mother not wanting his father to be with her seems so impossible. But he knows his father would not lie to him now. "You left."

"I did. And you must believe me, Spock – it was the most difficult thing I ever did," he replies. And this time, there is some level of emotion in his father's voice. He remembers him telling him as a child that Vulcans felt emotion more deeply than humans, and for the first time in his life he believes it. "For two weeks, all I thought about was going back to her and trying again to explain how necessary she was to my very survival."

"Did you return to her, then?" Spock asks. His father shakes his head.

"Two weeks after I left, she returned to her university. She came to the embassy that same day," he says. "I tried to maintain a respectable distance from her, but she would not allow it. She told me that she hadn't had any luck getting me 'out of her head' and said that she would accept my proposal. We were married within the week."

Spock stares at his father, trying to piece together the myriad of emotions he is feeling. "She came to you."

"Indeed," his father confirms. At last, he looks back to his son. "I know you are not easy to calm, Spock; it is even more difficult to reassure you. I have done all I know to do."

The half Vulcan is aware, suddenly, that his hands are clenched together so tightly that he has lost all sensation in them. He eases them into a relaxed position. "I appreciate the insight into your experience," he says as evenly as he can. "I will try to give my mate the time he requires."

His father rises from the bed, looking down at him. "That is wise," he murmurs, voice strong. "Perhaps if the strain of your mate's rejection is weighing on you so heavily, you should engage in retrograde meditation. It might assist."

Spock nods. "I will take your suggestion into consideration," he says. His father nods his approval. They exchange farewells, and Spock returns to his desk.

He will consider his father's suggestion after he completes his work.

* * *

Two more days pass without any contact with Jim, and with their bond carefully blocked both ways, Spock does not even know how the man is faring, both physically and emotionally. He is more troubled by this than he knew he could be, but he must respect Jim's request – _demand_ – for privacy.

There is no more work that he needs to perform immediately, so Spock finally makes his way to sick bay. Captain Pike had expressed that he wanted him to visit, after all, and it is the least the Vulcan can do for his ailing captain. The new chief medical officer – Doctor McCoy, Spock recalls – scowls when Spock comes through the door, but he does not state any objections.

"Well hello, Mr. Spock," Pike calls over, looking altogether too happy to have him visiting. Spock takes in the stack of cards sitting in front of the captain and raises an eyebrow. The man laughs at his obvious inquiry. "Solitaire. It's a good way to pass the time when you're not allowed to lift _anything_. PADDs included."

Spock nods, making his way slowly to the captain's biobed. "I understand that your recovery will likely require an extended period of time," he says, trying to be as tactful as he can. It is difficult. "I presume you have had no visitors yet today."

"Right on the nose there, Mr. Spock," Pike confirms, stretching his shoulders. "Seems like the closer we get to space dock, the more damage we find on this ship. The whole crew is pretty much working 24/7 on documenting everything. But I'm sure you know that."

"Of course," Spock nods, carefully seating himself in the chair beside the captain's bed. "However, given the importance of proper documentation—"

"Kirk tells me you're in love with him," Pike interrupts. Spock stills, eyes fixed to his superior's face. There is no amusement evident in his expression, and the Vulcan wonders what he is thinking. His silence does not sit well with the captain. "Is this true, Mr. Spock?"

_It is not inaccurate_, he wants to say. _That is a simplification of the situation. It is much more complicated than that_, he considers. _Cadet Kirk is making assumptions based on incomplete information, _he decides.

"Yes," is what he ends up saying. The answer seems more appropriate than all the others. And it is, he finds himself shocked to realize, completely true.

Pike's eyes widen, then narrow. Spock, for his part, sits rigidly beside the biobed, steeling himself for any reaction. The silence is telling.

"That strikes me as very sudden," the captain says evenly. Spock nods, unable to even deny this. Pike idly lifts the cards and shuffles them. "A lot has happened in the past week or so. You've lost your home, your people, and your mother. Maybe you should wait before you decide you're in love with someone you barely know."

He recognizes the emotion in the captain's voice. _Disapproval_. Spock cannot remember ever hearing it from Captain Pike, and he hopes he never hears it again. He stretches his back, trying to remain as professional as he can be.

"It is not something I can control," he states firmly, hoping Pike will accept this. There is silence from the other man. "And it is a private matter. I do not feel Cadet Kirk should have told you."

Pike sighs. "He didn't tell me as my subordinate. He told me as a friend," he says, eyes fixed on Spock. "I don't want to ruin this visit, Spock, but I don't approve of this. It's a rough time for everyone, Jim included. Don't force this on him when everything's still so raw for him. He lost a lot too."

Spock tries not to be insulted by Pike's words. The man is not in possession of all the facts, and he is only trying to protect Spock and his crew.

"I understand," Spock manages, although he is not certain what course of action the man expects of him. Does he wish him to tell Jim that he may disregard the issue entirely? Perhaps he is to avoid contact with Jim, or control completely everything that composes his life. But he can no more control his need for Jim than he can bring back Vulcan or revive his mother. It is an irreversible constant in his life now, and for better or for worse, he cannot possibly change it.

Pike smiles. "Good," he says, sounding extraordinarily relieved. He sets the cards he has been fiddling with down, eyes flashing back to Spock's face. "How is crew morale?"

Spock raises an eyebrow. "Crew morale is particularly low. But that is to be expected considering the circumstances," he replies. "I am certain you already knew this."

Pike sighs. "Yeah. But I was hoping things were getting better," he shrugs. "It'd bring up _my_ morale if people were getting to be more optimistic."

The half Vulcan takes a deep breath. "I have been informed that you will not regain complete mobility in your lower extremities," he admits, carefully training his eyes on the man's face. "And I understand that some of your fine motor control has been interrupted as well."

"I've got twitching, yeah," he says easily. "And I'll never walk without help again. I'm not going to lie, Spock – I hate it. I know that a captain has to be able to take part in away missions and can't hold back the rest of the crew. I'm pretty much going to be forced to retire from active duty."

"Sir—" Spock starts, but Pike hushes him.

"It's how it has to be, Spock. I'd be a liability otherwise," he says, looking far less grim than he sounds. Spock is silent. "But you know it doesn't mean I have to leave Starfleet entirely. It just means I'll have a desk job back at base. At least my wife will be happy, after she kills me for getting hurt this bad; she hates that I've been going into space without her these past two years. Now I'll be home a lot more."

Spock tries not to respond too quickly. "Your transition to ground duty will not be an easy one for either of you," he says neutrally. "I do not know whether you will find it suits you. I hope it does."

Pike gave him a self-depreciating smile. "You can go ahead and say I'll hate it. We both know I will," he admits, casting his eyes to the damaged portion of sick bay. Spock does not speak. "You knew it. My wife knew it. I think everyone who's ever known me knows it. I was meant to fly, Spock. And I hate that now I'll always have to be carried instead of flying under my own power. So do me a favor, Spock. If I'm ever on your ship again, humor me and act like I'm in charge. Okay?"

The Vulcan in Spock wants to point out the irrationality of his captain's request. But something else in him tells him to let it pass without comment. So he clears his throat and takes a deep breath. "I can accommodate that request. To a reasonable degree."

Pike turns his face back to Spock and smiles – the first real smile he's seen him give today. "That's all I could ask for," he says quietly. There is the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind, and Spock recognizes the look on the older man's face. "Well, looks like it's medication time. Stop by again soon, okay?"

Spock nods, turning to find Dr. McCoy waiting with two hyposprays in hand. He returns his attention to Captain Pike for a moment. "When I have the opportunity, I will," he promises. He waits for Pike to smile again, and then he takes his leave.

Perhaps now he should attempt what his father suggested.


	7. Chapter 7

_The author in no way owns the Star Trek franchise or in any way has claim to the characters and entities that are part of it. All original plots, storylines, and characters contained within this work are, however, property of the author, Naelle Annenburg. Use of any of these is acceptable only if the author releases permission._

_Warning: graphic sexual content, references to intersex genitalia (hermaphrodism)._

"**Amalgamation", Chapter ****7**

_He finds himself once more small in stature, falling into step behind his mother as she walks him towards the bathroom. She is clad in casual clothing – trousers and a light blouse – and she smells of some flower that must be native to Earth. Lavender, she had informed him earlier in the month. It was purple._

_They reach the bathroom, and she moves to activate the sonic shower as he waits beside her. Yes, he is too short to reach the controls. He always has been. But he knows he will someday grow tall enough that he will no longer require her assistance._

_She turns around again, her face open and young. Expressive. Spock stands still as she sinks to her knees, helping him disrobe. Her fingers undo the clasps of his robes – clasps his hands are still too clumsy to open himself – and when the back of her hand brushes his shoulder, he feels the calm, effortless way she loves him._

Unconditional_. That is the word._

_

* * *

He is seventeen when he arrives at the academy, and by eighteen he is in what is considered to be his 'senior year' of classes. It is a credit to the educational system of Vulcan that he could advance as such, though the ease makes him question at times whether coming to Starfleet was the correct decision._

_His mother sends him messages every few days, and he meets with his father once while he is on Earth for business. T'Pring has never communicated with him, and he finds himself all right with that._

_Still, as important as he knows they are, his studies are primarily busywork. He is required to write papers on subjects that could be more easily explained mathematically. His xenobiology classes hold little he does not already know, yet he is required to attend all lectures. Command classes consist of few individuals of any charisma, and he doubts they will improve._

_Captain Pike pulls him out of a computer sciences class one afternoon, mouth quirked into a smile._

"_Tell me," he begins, handing Spock a paper cup filled with tea. "Have you ever heard of the Kobayashi Maru?"_

_

* * *

He observes, with a degree of objectivity, the relationship growing between Pike and his first officer. She is not particularly attractive, and her personality is caustic at best. She argues furiously and, at times, unprofessionally with the captain, though she is careful enough not to let the rest of the crew see their fights. But for all this, her decisions are made rationally, and he is more than willing to support her when she risks damaging the ship to rescue Pike on what will be their last mission together._

_He watches her expression as she demands the captain be returned to them. She appears calm, yet dangerous. He can sense there is more to her words than mere suggestion; she is threatening them with not so much as a word._

_And it is effective. The captain is returned to them unharmed._

_Later than night, Spock is able to hear them in the quarters next door to his. The soundproofing between their rooms has always been faulty, and it is a consequence of that that allows him to hear the muffled sounds of gasps, moans, and murmured declarations._

_He is good enough to act as if the invitation to their wedding two months later comes as a surprise._

* * *

The retrograde meditation helps him regain some control, but he knows it is a temporary solution. He will not be able to completely control himself again until his bond has been consummated; it is a fact of his existence. But he will not rush Jim into this, not when the man is so violently opposed to their union. He will wait.

He will wait for as long as it takes.

He functions well enough during the day, and his shifts are relatively uneventful for the next few days. His off-duty time is nearly all devoted to meditation, save for sleep, which does not come easily.

He does not fully comprehend how shattered his control has become until he runs into Jim in the hall one day. The urge to claim his mate boils up, and he feels his mind struggle against the blocks he has constructed. He cannot understand for a moment why he cannot simply take Jim now – he is his _mate_, after all, and if he leaves him too long, something might happen to him. They need to complete their bond, or he will surely die.

He catches himself moving forward independently of his free will, and he jerks back as Jim tenses. It takes every scrap of his control to hold himself back as Jim eyes him warily. He cannot stay long, but he cannot run, either. He swallows.

"Cadet Kirk," he nods in greeting, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. Jim nods in response, brows knitting in confusion. "I assume you are well?"

Jim stares at him. "Yeah, sure," he replies, taking a step towards him. Spock steels his reserve, holding himself completely still. "You don't look so hot. You okay?"

Spock breathes, mentally reciting a meditation mantra as Jim draws closer still. "I am fine," he says, wondering if his voice sounds as strained as it feels. Jim takes another step closer, placing himself right in front of Spock. "You do not need to, ah, c-concern yourself with my health."

Jim's eyes widen when Spock stutters, and the Vulcan nearly recoils. The other man's expression changes, becoming a mixture of determination and trepidation. "Is this because I didn't have sex with you that day?" he asks. Spock barely has the presence of mind to shake his head. Jim sets his jaw. "No, seriously. This has something to do with me, doesn't it?"

Spock swallows again, feeling the same dampness growing between his legs as the last time Jim was this close. His body is seeking its mate, and the commander's thoughts are harder and harder to navigate with each second, and he knows he cannot be here much longer. "Yes," he whispers, not trusting himself not to shout. "But you are under no obligation to take action, Jim. I am capable of regaining control on my own."

That much is a lie. But he is too far gone to care about whether or not he is completely honest with Jim. The other man raises an eyebrow, and Spock knows he has to leave.

"I have business to attend to," he manages, the desire to claim his mate overwhelming. He turns on his heel, each step away from Jim physically painful. He hears the man's voice echo down the hall after him, but he cannot turn around. If he is here even one more second, his control will be shattered.

He makes it to his quarters somehow, and once he arrives he is completely aware of how far gone he is. His phallus is straining in his briefs, and the lubrication from his female organs – his _vagina_, he thinks numbly – is soaking into his clothing. He stands lost, for a moment, fighting the desire to rush back to Jim and demand they consummate their bond, before a preposterous thought comes to him.

Perhaps he can use self stimulation as a temporary treatment.

There are a million reasons why this should not work, he knows. His entire being is crying out for Jim specifically; masturbation will not erase this need. However, he cannot bring himself to consider the arguments against it, even as they flit across his mind one after another.

He undoes his trousers and pushes them off and to the ground. His undergarments follow, and before he can even think about what he is doing, he has spread himself on his bed, one hand stroking his phallus and the other reaching behind and below, seeking out his labia. He strokes them, distantly surprised when they open under his fingers, and dips one fingertip in experimentally.

The sensation is neither agreeable nor painful. It is strange, to say the least, and he is uncertain whether he likes it or not. He continues stroking his phallus, even as the fingers at his entrance grow bolder, pushing in deeper and wriggling.

This time, the sensation is novel, and he is still uncertain whether it is agreeable or not. He moves his fingers again, and this time, at last, he brushes against something that finally, _finally_ brings him pleasure. He locates the spot again, flicking his fingers against it over and over. The hand on his penis speeds up, and before he knows how he got there, his body is seizing with climax. He comes messily over his stomach even as his vagina clenches hard against his fingers.

He is completely desensitized for a few minutes after he comes, blinking in the aftermath and trying to sort through the thousands of thoughts rushing through his head. When at last he can concentrate again, he stands, unable to keep from grimacing at the mess on his abdomen.

He can think again. At least enough to know he will need to shower.

* * *

Nyota visits him again the next day, concern easily read on her face. He offers her tea, but she refuses, taking a seat on his bed and looking up at him with a degree of hesitation obvious in her expression.

"Kirk's rejecting you, isn't he?" she asks, although Spock doubts very much that it is a question. He nods, walking to his personal replicator to fetch a cup of tea for himself. He has the feeling this will be a long conversation, and he prepares himself for it. He even goes so far as to add a lump of sugar to his tea, knowing he will need the energy.

"He is well within his rights to refuse me," Spock reminds her, and she raises an eyebrow in an uncanny imitation of his own family. He takes his seat at his desk and meets her eyes. "And I am willing to wait for him."

Her lips twist, and Spock cannot be sure what the expression means. "I don't think he'll ever commit to you," she confesses, threading her fingers together in an obvious display of nerves. Spock inclines his head, trusting she will pick up the subtle inquiry. She swallows noisily. "Look, Spock. I know you couldn't control your imprint, and I know that you can't do anything to change it. But Jim Kirk isn't the type to make commitments. It's just not in his make up."

Spock takes another sip of his tea. "Would you be willing to expand on this?" he asks. She bites her lip.

"He's a womanizer. Always has been," she tells him, shifting her legs nervously. "Actually, it wasn't just women. He flirts and seduces anyone who will fall for it, and he drops them at the first flash of interest anyone else shows. He gets bored with people and throws them out. I don't want to see him do that to you."

Spock is aware that he is gripping his mug too tightly, and the loosens his grip as she speaks. He notices a drop of sweat forming at her temple, and he wonders how he could have been so distracted. "Computer, lower temperature by five degrees; increase humidity by five percent," he commands. Instantly, the room cools, and Nyota tenses.

"You don't have to—"

"You are my guest," Spock reminds her. "It is only reasonable that I defer to your comforts. I am more adaptable than you, after all."

She looks like she wants to argue, but thankfully she does not. Instead, she draws her legs up and looks him in the eye again.

"I don't know how to say this," she murmurs, so quietly that even Spock's trained ears can hardly detect it. She clears her throat, and when she speaks again her voice is clear and loud. "I don't think Kirk deserves you. I wish you had imprinted on me instead."

Spock is admittedly surprised by the boldness of her statement, as well as the raw honesty of it. Nyota has always impressed him with her tact, and for her to say something so blunt seems nearly out of character. He takes in a mouthful of tea to keep himself from replying right away. He does not know what she expects him to say.

Thankfully, she speaks again. "It's stupid. Imprinting's been around as long as Vulcans have. It's not going to mess up now," she says. "But it's human nature to wish and hope. I keep thinking you're going to wake up one morning and realize it was me you imprinted on and not him."

Spock considers how to respond. Honesty is likely best, he thinks to himself, and he steels himself.

"It is indeed an illogical way to spend your time," he confirms, and her shoulders drop a little. He knows she is disappointed, but there is nothing he can do about this. "However, Nyota, I would not criticize it myself. The human proclivity towards hope is powerful, and in many ways admirable. You should never be ashamed of it, nor should you seek to stop it. It will always serve you well."

She smiles wryly at him, and he wonders how she has interpreted his words. "But," she says pointedly, "I shouldn't waste time wishing you had imprinted on me."

He nods. "Precisely."

"I'll try," she agrees, extending her legs again. "For now, I'll try to concentrate on being the friend you need. I have a feeling things will only get harder from here on in."

The relief Spock feels at her resolve is nearly overwhelming. He did not wish to lose her company, and he knows he could have lost it easily. Still, she looks a little worried.

"I hope Kirk comes around," she informs him, swinging her legs to the side of the bed and slipping off. She stands before him, and he lifts himself from his chair to walk her the short distance to the door. She salutes him – something she has never done before, though she does it now flawlessly – and opens the door herself. She tosses him a strange look as she leaves.

"Nyota?" he asks, wondering why she is looking at him as she is. She shakes her head.

"Just try hoping, Commander," she tells him. He blinks. "You are half human, after all. Maybe you shouldn't seek to stop it yourself."

And with a switch of her hip, she turns and walks back down the hall.


	8. Chapter 8

_The author in no way owns the Star Trek franchise or in any way has claim to the characters and entities that are part of it. All original plots, storylines, and characters contained within this work are, however, property of the author, Naelle Annenburg. Use of any of these is acceptable only if the author releases permission._

_Warning: graphic sexual content, references to intersex genitalia (hermaphrodism)._

"**Amalgamation", Chapter 8**

Nyota's words stay with him that night. It is the first night he is unable to sleep at all, and his attempts at meditation do not assist either. He does paperwork, and when the next night comes and he is still unable to sleep, he reads the reports filed by engineering.

Another night, and he is exhausted. But every attempt he makes to sleep fails, and he cannot fathom why. He makes it through his fourth shift without sleep and without incident.

And when he returns to his quarters after, he falls.

* * *

Spock awakens in a slight haze. His internal chronometer is inaccessible, his senses spinning, and he blinks. His lights are on, albeit they are dimmed to approximately 65% normal levels, and his mouth is dry.

In the periphery of his vision, he detects some movement, and he turns to examine whatever it might be. His father's gaze meets his, and he feels his brows furrow. He attempts to ask why he is here, but his throat is too dry. All that escapes is a quiet, rasping breath.

"You have been unconscious for two days," his father supplies, his tone revealing nothing else. He offers Spock a glass of water, which he accepts. He raises an eyebrow as he looks at his father, and the older Vulcan looks right back through him. "Dr. McCoy believes it is likely due to your lack of sleep over the past week. Why did you not inform me that you were unable to rest appropriately?"

Spock does not answer, instead slowly sipping the water. His father watches, obviously waiting for a response, and when none comes, he raises an eyebrow.

"I take it Jim has not been willing to converse with you," he surmises, and Spock nods, swallowing his drink. His parched throat floods with relief, and he coughs once to clear his windpipe of sleep. He does not think to ask how his father has determined his imprint's identity.

"He is unnaturally stubborn," he says, voice still hoarse and a little quieter than he had intended. His father is silent. "He is not prepared for the level of commitment the bond entails, and the concept of having someone in his mind at all times is…unappealing to him. Physical intimacy does not seem to be a problem for him. However, it is difficult not to take advantage of him."

His father nods. "I can only suggest again that you wait for him," he advises, taking the empty glass from him. Spock closes his eyes as his father turns to walk back to the sink. His mind is in complete disarray, but the blocks he constructed to isolate his mind from Jim's are still in place. He hears his father return, opening his eyes again.

"I do not even _want _him," he murmurs. His father nods. "I could never have chosen him of my own volition. There are so few similarities between us; we hardly seem compatible."

His father hands him another glass of water. "You must recall, I had a similar experience with your mother," he reminds the younger Vulcan. Spock sips the beverage. "Your compatibility will become evident in time.

Spock feels an odd bubbling sensation in his chest. It nearly aches, and he swallows, trying to quell it. "He makes me feel crazy," he confesses, unable to look at his father. "He infuriates me. He is irrational and bases his decisions on illogical processes. I cannot understand him. I could _never_ understand him, and I do not believe I will ever understand what is between us."

"You will," his father assures him. He shakes his head.

"When I see him, my mind empties," he says, his own voice sounding foreign to him. "Even after he causes me anger, I cannot remain angry with him. When I disregard his wishes, I cannot control the guilt I feel. It is…maddening."

His father takes the glass from him again. "You will adjust. This is your life now," he tells him. Spock feels an odd sense of shame, completely new to him. His father does not seem to notice. "Jim will come to you in time. Things will improve once he makes his commitment to you."

His conversation with Nyota flashes to the forefront of his mind, and Spock swallows heavily. He does not know that Jim will ever consent to be his. But he nods. "How long have I been given leave?"

"One more week," his father informs him noncommittally. It seems excessive, Spock thinks, but he accepts it. "Will this give you sufficient time to regain your health and control?"

Spock does not know that he will ever fully regain his control, but he looks to his father with determination. "The time will be more than sufficient," he says, confident that it is true – at least in regard to his health. His father looks nearly approvingly at him, and Spock forces his gaze away. "I require the use of the facilities."

His father steps aside, and Spock walks slowly to the bathroom door.

_

* * *

His mother meets him in Engineering._

_It is certainly a dream, but Spock has no inclination towards waking from it. She is wearing the same casual blouse and slacks she wore when he was young, and he does not wish for her to ever be away from him again. She looks young, happy, and more than anything, she is reaching her arms out to him._

_He cannot help but walk to her, allowing her, as he had not in years, to wrap her arms around him, holding him in a tight embrace. He feels her soft breaths on his neck and the weight of her arms at his waist, and he reminds himself that it isn't real._

"_Of course it's real," his mother murmurs, but he knows it is a lie. She pulls back, still holding him, and it is enough for him to see her face. Her lips quirk into a humorous smile. "I don't suppose I'll ever have you believing that, though."_

_Spock could not have looked away from her if his life depended on it. "You are dead," he points out. She shrugs._

"_Well, I'm not going to argue about that. That one's pretty undeniable," she admits, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she looks him over. "I miss you."_

_He breathes deeply. "The sentiment is returned," he says, wrapping his own arms around her waist. She leans in again, resting her head against his collarbone. He allows himself to hold her for a moment like this. "But you are not real. This is a dream."_

"_Who says dreams aren't real?" she asks. He tightens his arms._

"_Years of research has documented—"_

_She moves one of her hands to cover his mouth. "Shh," she quiets him, pulling back again. "Stop examining and analyzing this. I don't want you telling me whether or not I exist."_

_There is a pang behind his sternum, and Spock nods, letting her slip from his embrace. She glances around the room._

"_So this is your ship," she observes. He nods, and she sighs. "It's beautiful. Maybe a bit cold."_

_He does not answer right away. He watches her examine the engine. "In reality, the area you are standing is charred severely. It will likely require complete replacement before we are reengaged."_

"_Spoilsport," his mother murmurs. She glances back at him. "Your father told you about his imprint, didn't he?"_

_Spock clasps his hands behind his back. "He said you were against bonding with him."_

_She laughs, a sound he is shocked to find he has forgotten. Her eyes shine as she looks at him. "Of course I was," she says. He cocks his head, watching her lean against the engine. "I was only twenty-two, Spock. Younger than you are now. I'd just completed university, and the last thing I wanted was to be whisked away in some fairytale romance with a dashing stranger. I'd worked far too hard for that."_

_The Vulcan takes a step towards her. "I was under the impression you were a teacher when you and Father met."_

_She shakes her head. "I was completing an internship. I was in training to become a teacher," she explains. "It was a dream I'd had for years. I didn't want to give it up for anything."_

_Spock stills. "Why did you agree to complete the bond with him, then?"_

_His mother shrugs her shoulders; he had forgotten that she did that. "I realized that he was going to be as much mine as I was to be his," she informs him. "And once I understood that, it was okay. We weren't going to be able to fight it. I knew I had to adapt."_

_Spock sets his jaw, walking until he is directly in front of her again. "Have you ever regretted it?"_

_She turns her face up to him, and he realizes just how much smaller she is than him. He always knew, objectively, that he was taller, heavier, and wider than her, but this is the first time he's really _noticed_ it. She smiles gently. "Not a day of my life," she answers, lifting her hands to cup the sides of his neck. She looks away for a moment, then back to him. "Jim will come to you."_

_Spock swallows again. "I will understand if he does not."_

"_He will come to you," she repeats firmly, locking eyes with him. His breath feels trapped in his lungs, and she smiles. There is a sudden ethereal quality to her, and it fills him with an odd sense of panic. "I love you."_

_He opens his mouth to respond, but in an instant, everything is gone._

* * *

Spock wakes abruptly, finding the lights shining above once more. He blinks twice, trying to determine what woke him, and to his great shock, he finds Jim has taken a seat at his desk. He is scrolling through a PADD, and for a moment Spock thinks he must still be dreaming.

"You're awake," Jim says, though he does not turn back to look at him. Spock barely remembers to breathe. "Did you sleep well?"

The half Vulcan clears his throat. "Yes," he answers, remembering vividly his mother's confidence that Jim would be here. He tries to cast it from his mind. "What brings you to my quarters?"

Jim scrolls further in his PADD, and Spock recognizes the document as one of the few that concerns Vulcan imprinting. He swallows.

"Did my father provide you with that material?" he asks. Jim shakes his head.

"Lieutenant Uhura told me I should read it," the man replies, finally setting it down. He turns to face Spock, expression unreadable. "You told her what happened?"

Spock shakes his head. "She reached the correct conclusion of what had transpired on her own," he says, wondering why Nyota had given him the material. It was nothing he could not have explained to Jim himself. "Does it bother you that she is in possession of this information?"

Jim looks at the wall. "No," he says, sounding surprised himself. "Actually, it was probably for the best. How else would she have known to give me the right report?"

Spock is quiet for a moment. "You still have not answered my question," he points out. "What brings you to my quarters?"

There is a sudden rush of color to Jim's cheeks, and he clears his throat. Spock watches him bring one strong hand to his mouth to cover the resulting cough. He doesn't look away from the wall. "I didn't know how to stay away."

The Vulcan raises an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

The human finally looks back to him, red to his ears. "I was going crazy, knowing you were on medical leave and not—not seeing you," he explains. His eyes appear even more piercingly blue right now, and Spock's breath is caught in his chest. He yearns to pull Jim into bed with him and demand that they consummate the bond right this instant, but he knows he must control himself.

"I am certain that my absence from your field of vision was not in any way endangering your sanity," he says, almost without thinking. Jim laughs, sounding oddly helpless. "I am…pleased that you have chosen to come."

His mate stands, walking to the bed and sitting at the end of the mattress. Spock forces himself to neither move towards or away from the other man. Once he is comfortably situated, Jim meets Spock's eyes again. "So. Since I'm here, I think we should talk."

Spock nods, inhaling deeply. "I believe that would be the best course of action," he agrees. He lets his gaze travel to the PADD. "Have you read the entire document?"

Jim coughs. "Twice," he confesses. "I still don't get it."

The half Vulcan nods. "Imprinting is a difficult process to explain," he offers. Jim shakes his head.

"No, I got that," he says, shifting his legs. "What I don't get is how on _earth_ you imprinted on someone like me. I can't say I'm exactly the best guy for a Vulcan."

Spock raises an eyebrow. "I am given to understand that we are supposedly inherently compatible," he explains. "However, given your reputation for short-lived trysts and your apparently inability to commit to another, I am also at a loss for why I would have imprinted on you."

Jim's cheeks color pink again, and Spock finds himself fascinated by the depth of the hue. "My reputation is pretty much bullshit," he says in a rush. Spock blinks, and Jim looks particularly tortured for a moment. "Everyone thinks I'm some kind of a man-whore because I jump from person to person. But it's not—I don't usually sleep with the people I flirt with. People leave when they realize I won't put out right away like they expect I will. It sucks."

Spock cocks his head. "You have not had an excessive number of sexual partners?"

"Try four," the man answers, cheeks still pink. "It would've been five, but Uhura walked in on me and her roommate before we could get anywhere."

The Vulcan is nearly certain his heart stops beating for a moment. Jim is quiet, as though he is ashamed of the remembers how to breathe and finally responds.

"You have had only four sex partners?" he asks, if only because he can think of nothing else to say. Jim nods.

"My second girlfriend, my first boyfriend, a horribly misadvised one-night stand with an Andorian, and you," he expands. Spock feels his body go numb as he focuses all his energy to ward processing this. Jim doesn't seem to notice. "What about you?"

Spock swallows. "You," he responds. Jim's eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, and Spock is unsure how to react. "I would not have expected your history to…"

When he trails off, Jim nods, obviously feeling the awkwardness begotten by the revelation. He coughs again, looking at Spock as though he wants nothing more than to crawl inside his skin. But that could not possible be right – that is how Spock feels.

"Spock. Is this seriously…forever?" he asks, and Spock _understands_, at last, why Jim had reacted so badly when he'd first revealed their bond to him. He is used to being seen as an easy mark, taken and tossed away when his partners can't get what they want. His reservations are natural – predictable, even. And then, in answer, Spock nods.

"Yes, Jim," he says simply. "Whether we are prepared or not."

Jim stares at him for a moment, an oddly desperate light in his eyes, and then he whispers, "okay."

Spock blinks. "Okay?-"

He cannot complete the though, Jim launching himself forward and into Spock's lap. He straddles him, their faces mere centimeters apart. "Okay," he repeats. "Then I'm okay with this. I want it."

Spock feels his breath catch in his chest. "Are you certain?" he manages to whisper. In response, Jim closes the distance between them, their lips meeting in a gentle kiss.

At least, it is gentle for a moment. But the second their skin touches, something ignites in Spock. Unfettered now, the barriers he's erected between his mind and Jim's come crashing down, the familiar and dizzying sensation of the interchange between their minds rushing through both of them, and they cannot possibly go slow.

Spock forces himself upright, devouring Jim's mouth. He realizes, distantly, that he is gripping Jim's wrists, perhaps too tightly, but he cannot be bothered to let the man go. He is caught up in the heady flavor of his mate, the scent of his arousal heavy in the air, and the weight of the man in his lap. His blood boils for a moment, and he is overwhelmed by the sudden urge to reverse their positions.

He is not sure how, but in an instant, he has flipped Jim onto the sheets, one hand traveling up his shirts to tease a nipple. Jim arches up against him, evidently not bothered in the least by the reversal of their positions. The human plunges his tongue into Spock's mouth, and it only feeds into Spock's fervor. The Vulcan moves both hands to work at the clasps of Jim's pants. He can clearly feel Jim's arousal, his phallus engorged with blood and straining against him. Spock is in a similar state; his own penis is completely erect, and there is an uncomfortable slickness between his legs.

He needs Jim inside him _now_.

He fumbles until he is able to slip Jim out of his pants, then he breaks the kiss, panting as he shoves down his own pants, grateful that his sleepwear is so easy to remove. Jim moans, looking at him with a startlingly bereft expression as he kicks off his slacks. He slinks out of his shirt as he does this, then returns to straddling Jim, completely naked.

He pumps Jim twice with his hand, telling himself he will explore his mate more thoroughly later. He lifts his hips, lining Jim up with his entrance.

"Wait, you need—" Jim starts, but his words are choked off when Spock forces himself down, taking the other man into himself. His mate gasps, eyes fixed to Spock's face. "H-holy—is that-?"

Spock nods, leading Jim's hand to where they are joined. The man's eyes widen with obvious shock. He cannot help but lean over to kiss him. Just having Jim inside him has calmed him some, and he takes a moment to take in his mate.

Jim is, of course, still fully dressed, aside from his open fly. The contrast between them is obvious when he looks down himself to where Jim's hand is disappearing between his naked legs, and he feels himself clench around Jim's phallus when Jim strokes around his opening curiously. The younger man moans, and Spock feels the heat building in his loins again.

He knows he has to move now. They both need it.

Spock lifts himself experimentally, examining the sensation that allowing Jim to mostly vacate him brings him. It is oddly painful to feel Jim nearly leave him, and he shoves down again, pleased by the ease of the motion. Jim groans, his free hand reaching for Spock's. But Spock cannot possibly hold his hand and move at the same time—

"Brace yourself on me," Jim whispers, his other hand emerging from between Spock's legs to offer a support to the Vulcan. Spock sees what he means immediately, and he threads his fingers with Jim's and pushes, finding the man can support him easily. He uses Jim's arms as his leverage, and finally, achingly, he begins to find his rhythm.

Neither of them can last long, and it seems like only minutes before Jim is gasping, hips bucking up as he comes inside Spock. Spock, for his part, does not last even a second longer before his walls are clamping down around Jim as he ejaculates on his mate's yellow jersey. There is a distinct flash of white in his mind – their minds – and finally, _finally_, he feels their bond complete.

He comes back to himself with a deep, shaking breath, and he realizes that Jim's arms are trembling. He releases his hands and allows himself to collapse onto him. The human's heavy heartbeat thuds against his chest, and he closes his eyes, relishing in the slow tempo. One of Jim's hands moves to his shoulder blade, rubbing gently as if massaging him, and he cannot help the purr that leaves him.

"Wow," his mate whispers. Spock is inclined to agree with the monosyllabic statement. Jim is beginning to soften within him, and he squirms against the sensation of his ejaculate beginning to drip out of him. One of Jim's hands makes it down to circle Spock's sensitive entrance, and he groans.

"Too much," he manages, but Jim's gentle fingers prod further, even as his penis slips out of its own volition. Those fingers explore gently, then retreat, hands resting on Spock's backside.

"Why exactly do you have a vagina?" the human inquires. Spock supposes he's taking this quite well. "Not that I'm complaining – I just wanted to know. Is it a Vulcan thing?"

The half-Vulcan shakes his head, disinclined to move any further. "It is simply how I was engineered," he answers. Jim's hands squeeze his backside, and he lets them. "I can explain further later."

Jim seems to accept this. "Huh," he murmurs, stretching lightly beneath him. Spock understands the subtle hint and lifts himself from the younger man, laying beside him. They are silent, and Spock breathes deeply, retreating to his mind to investigate the change in the bond.

The channel between their minds is clear, open, and reinforced by their physicality. He is aware that Jim has also entered this shared space between them, albeit inexpertly, and is examining it too. He checks it over for any signs of damage or weakness, and finding none, he reaches through to embrace his mate's presence in the bond.

_Amusement_ and careful _wonder_ slips through to Spock, and he echoes the sentiments. Its potency is unreduced when he brings himself back to the outer layers of his consciousness and finds Jim staring at him.

"Yes?" he asks. Jim shakes his head.

"Nothing. I've got plenty of time to figure it out."


	9. Chapter 9

_The author in no way owns the Star Trek franchise or in any way has claim to the characters and entities that are part of it. All original plots, storylines, and characters contained within this work are, however, property of the author, Naelle Annenburg. Use of any of these is acceptable only if the author releases permission._

_Warning: graphic sexual content, references to intersex genitalia (hermaphrodism)._

"**Amalgamation", Chapter 9**

The Enterprise arrives at the station as scheduled, and Spock finds he can most certainly divine a change in the crew's morale. Where before there had been resignation, shock, and sorrow, he now sees a movement towards determination and solidarity. Each crew member he encounters seems eager to complete their duties at the station and return home.

Jim had taken charge of the engineering department while at base, going over plans and requisitions and barking orders as necessary. Spock, for his part, had assisted in moving the most badly injured of the crew to the station's hospital and acquiring the necessary medical equipment for the rest of their trip.

He does not see Jim while at the station; Jim remains on the ship as his self-selected duties in engineering require. Spock, in the meantime, remains in the station for the most part. He does not mind the distance.

At last, he understands the concept of 'parted from me and never parted'.

Nyota and his father join him for dinner at the station, and he knows they can see the difference in him. Nyota's shoulders relax at last, as though a weight has been lifted, and he wonders if perhaps she had been more concerned than even he had been. His father gives no indication that he had ever been too worried. Perhaps he hadn't been.

Spock supposes he will never know. And he is surprised to find he is all right with that.

"I don't suppose I'll be getting a wedding invitation anytime soon," Nyota teases between dishes. Spock raises an eyebrow, and her smile widens. "Or will I?"

The half Vulcan shakes his head. "I believe that would be highly unlikely," he replies, wondering idly how Jim would react to a proposal of marriage. He cannot begin to fathom that he would accept, but Jim has surprised him before. Besides which, it is not time for this. They both have priorities beyond their relationship.

Nyota seems content to let the subject drop, but his father is not so generous. He folds his hands in his lap, glancing over Spock appraisingly.

"It would be prudent of you to marry him sooner rather than later," the older man advises, thankfully quieting as a second course is brought to him. When the server is out of earshot once more, he continues. "There needs to be a level of concern held for our clan's place in Vulcan society, Spock. You would be wise to act for the good of the family, now more than ever."

Spock shakes his head – a very human gesture, but one that conveys his meaning more than any Vulcan one he knows. "I will not pressure him," he says firmly. Nyota cocks her head, even as his father remains still. "We will both require time before that step is taken. I'm certain you appreciate this."

"Still scared he'll reject you?" Nyota asks. She is thankfully completely serious. He is not made to answer, though; she nods to herself and sighs. "He probably wouldn't, but what would I know?"

"Indeed," Spock concurs, sipping his soup. A pang goes through him with his father's disapproving gaze – but the disapproval is gone in an instant.

"Perhaps it is wise to wait. Diplomatically speaking," the older Vulcan concedes, and it is difficult for Spock to restrain his surprise. He settles for allowing his shoulders to rise a half a centimeter. His father easily interprets the subtle gesture. "Clearly, your marriage will be a significant event, given your heritage and status. It will require ceremony beyond which we have the means on earth. With our efforts best concentrated towards rebuilding Vulcan society, a display the likes of which your wedding should be would not be in the best interest of gaining public sympathy."

Nyota takes a moment to translate his father's awkward speech. "It would be insensitive to celebrate when so much has been lost and so much is left to do," she summarizes. Spock nods, and she hums. "I think I'd have to agree on that."

Spock does as well, though it is not his primary concern. He is grateful for the diversion. Even more so when the communicator at his waist beeps at him.

"Pardon me," he says as he excuses himself from the table. He takes himself out into an abandoned stretch of hallway before he answers it. "Spock here."

"Hey," his mate's voice greets him. Spock murmurs back an acknowledgement. "Just thought you should know – we're two hours ahead of schedule. We might get to head back to base before noon tomorrow."

The half Vulcan breathes deeply. "A departure ahead of schedule would be good for crew morale," he says evenly. A sliver of amusement slips through the bond from Jim. "Have you alerted Starfleet of the potential change?"

Jim is quiet for a moment longer than he needs to be. "Well, yeah, but that's not really why I called," he admits. Spock can feel the _nervousness_emanating through the bond, along with trepidation and…hope, perhaps? Jim clears his throat. "I don't want you to stay down on the station overnight."

Spock wonders for a second why Jim would express such a thing. Thoughts in the vein of suspicion float to the forefront of his mind, but he ignores them. Instead, he simply asks, "why?"

"No reason," Jim admits, and Spock's suspicions are heightened. Jim obviously picks up on this. "No, no – Spock, I don't mean that. I mean I don't know why I don't want you down there. I was hoping you could tell me. Something about the mental bond thing, I'm guessing?"

Spock finds himself frozen in position. He catches himself in his pause and straightens his back. "I will join you on board the ship," he agrees, feeling his pulse accelerate minutely. It sends the tiniest thrill through his spine. "I can be on the Enterprise in approximately seventeen minutes."

The _relief_ that slips through the bond is nearly palpable. "Great," Jim sighs. "I'll be in your quarters."

* * *

Jim greets him at the door of his quarters, hands gripping at his collar and dragging him into a very wet, very warm, very _human_ kiss. Spock doesn't think he could have repressed the shudder it sent through him even if he'd had time to anticipate it. A deluge of _lust_ floods through the bond, and nearly all thought leaves him. All he knows is that right now, his mate _needs_ him.

He is vaguely aware that he has removed his clothing by the time he comes back to himself. Mostly, he is distracted by Jim's bare torso. Unlike Spock, his chest hair is sparse, and his muscle is thick. A rumble fills the room, and Spock is surprised to realize it is emanating from him.

Jim is completely nude seconds later, and this time, he shoves Spock back onto the bed. He parts his legs, and then he is pushing inside. Spock groans; he's already close. Jim is in a similar state, rutting into him almost mindlessly, barely thinking to stimulate Spock's phallus as he moves. Altogether too quickly, he finds himself gasping as a fiery climax burns through him. There is a flash through the bond, and Jim groans long and loud, twitching inside him before he falls to the side.

For a moment, they simply catch their breaths. And then Jim lets out a small laugh.

"I didn't plan on that," he says, voice betraying his amusement. "I thought I was asking you to come back so we could talk."

Spock turns his head to look his mate over. There is an abundance of bare skin on display, and he takes a moment to admire it. "About what would you like to converse?" he asks, not taking his eyes off his mate's impressive physique. Jim laughs again.

"Just what this bond thing is doing to me," he admits easily. Spock raises an eyebrow; Jim wiggles his in response. "I'm not used to wanting someone all the time."

The half Vulcan shifts, suddenly aware of the cooling semen on his chest. He chooses to ignore it. "The desire to mate so frequently will fade with time," he assures the other man. "I understand it is potent at first, but once the bond has completely solidified—"

"Not what I meant," Jim murmurs, turning his head to press against Spock's shoulder. "I don't _want_ you all the time. Not like that. I just want _you_."

Spock takes a deep breath. "Changing the word which receives the emphasis—"

"I just want you here. With me. I couldn't care less if we're going to have sex or not," Jim says in a rush. It takes Spock a moment to pick out the words themselves, and he finds himself blinking in surprise. "Yeah, I know. It's stupid. Just humor me a little, all right?"

The Vulcan is more than agreeable to that suggestion.

* * *

Spock is postulating upon the possibility of interdimensional communication while the ship undergoes repairs. The transference of objects and living beings is possible – that much has been made abundantly clear. But the transfer of messages – of comlinks, sound, thought itself – he wonders if it could be possible.

It could be.

When he stands face to face with an aged half Vulcan, name and genes and lineage all shared, he knows it is possible. There is barely a word spoken between them. There doesn't need to be. Everything is made clear with a gaze.

The older man turns his head, eyes lighting on Jim – Jim, who has so recently been promoted to captain; Jim who still dons his academy reds as he paces in the hangar; Jim, with his _blue eyes_ and _toothy grins_ – and, in spite of all Vulcan upbringing, his eyes relax and the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. It is perhaps the smallest smile Spock has ever seen, but it is enough.

"I will care for him," he promises himself, both figuratively and literally. The older man's eyes do not leave his mate.

"Good."

And even if a method of interdimensional communication is perfected in his lifetime, Spock knows he will never need use it.

He has already confirmed everything he needed to know.

End


End file.
